Death Goes to the County Fair

By Annette Drake

Joni Harte knew her first job out of college would be tough, but she didn’t expect it to be murder.
With the ink mostly dry on her journalism degree, Joni accepts the position of news reporter and photographer for The Ogallala Gazette. She’s tasked with chronicling all of the goings-on of the quirky characters who inhabit this small Missouri town.
While investigating the identity of the first murder victim, Joni makes an enemy of the local sheriff. Worse, she catches the attention of a violent stalker who promises to cure Joni of her curiosity.
As the Ogallala County Fair comes to an end, Joni must uncover the truth before she comes to hers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Annette Drake
• Release date: Feb 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310114113

Annette Drake

Annette Drake is a multi-genre author whose work is character-driven and celebrates the law of unintended consequences. A member of the Romance Writers of America, she loves ferry rides, basset hounds, and bakeries. She does not camp. She makes her home in Washington state.

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Death Goes to the County Fair

An Ogallala Mystery

By Annette Drake

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 Annette Drake

Baskethound Books

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

This one is for you, Mary Rose Cole.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Prologue

June 1, 1988

The squawk of the police scanner interrupted the quiet June morning at the Ogallala Gazette. Jerry rose from his desk chair and stepped over to the scanner. He leaned in to listen.

Dispatching all available fire units to 12005 Brown Road. House fire in progress. All units respond, the dispatcher’s voice crisp and controlled.

Joni?

I’m on it, Jerry. Joni snatched up her camera bag and dashed out the back door.

Once behind the wheel of her Gremlin, Joni grabbed the county map out of her glove box. She had just unfolded the mammoth-size sheet of paper when she saw the fire chief’s Chevy Blazer race out of the fire station and head north on Highway 9. Joni tossed the map aside, threw her car in first gear and followed.

They’d driven about two miles north of Ogallala when she saw a dark plume of smoke snaking its way up toward the sky. Her car couldn’t keep up with the chief’s, but she tailed him long enough to find Brown Road. She turned right onto the gravel lane and drove toward the black column of smoke. Her heart beat fast in her chest. Could anyone be trapped inside the burning house?

Up ahead, Joni saw a one-story building consumed by flames. She pulled off the road and onto the dirt driveway.

The crew of a pumper truck had beaten the chief to the fire. She watched as the driver backed the large truck toward the burning house. Three volunteer firefighters, clad in yellow gear, pounced on the pumper as soon as it stopped. They hooked up the hose to the water valve and dragged it as close to the fire as the flames and heat would allow. The driver stood at the side of the truck. He shouted a warning before he cranked a huge wheel. The hose thickened and pulsed with water. Two of the men held onto it while the third stepped up onto the front porch and pounded on the door with the butt of his axe.

Anybody in there? Can anyone hear me? he yelled before smashing in the front door.

As though in answer, fire blasted out the doorway, flinging him back like a plaything. Flames bloomed out of the house, like a giant orange dragon. The fire retreated when the firemen turned their hose at it, but a ribbon of yellow flame now licked the door frame.

The chief ran over to the fireman who’d been knocked to the ground by the explosion.

You all right? he asked.

The firefighter nodded. The chief helped him to his feet, while closer to the house the two volunteers pressed forward with their hose. Burning wood hissed where the water hit it. Clouds of steam rose and intermingled with the thick smoke.

Joni coughed, nearly gagging on the smell. She wondered how the two firemen, undeterred by the flames and the smoke, could inch closer to the burning building. They would not quit. After her coughing spell stopped, she took photo after photo of their fight against the flames. Her determination to shoot the fire from different angles placed her near the chief and the injured fireman.

Do you think anybody’s in there? yelled the chief over the crackling of the flames and the whoosh of the water.

This is old Pete Parsons’ house, the young fireman said, taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat out of his eyes.

Joni snapped a picture of the two men conversing, their frustration at being unable to help clear on their faces. She was surprised at how young this firefighter was, younger than her twenty-two years for certain.

That old man’s lived here ever since I can remember, the fireman told his chief. He was recovering from hip surgery. His daughter brought him meals and such so he could stay in his own home. I can’t see how he could have got out.

Is Nurse Parsons over at the health department any kin to him? the chief asked.

The young fireman nodded. Pete’s her dad.

Ah, hell, the fire chief said, taking off his helmet. He ran his hands through his sweat-drenched gray hair.

Joni heard a groan and creak as the one-story house tottered and then collapsed in on itself. She felt the ground shudder from the blast, which pushed back the firemen. She crouched down, afraid of flying debris. After most of the dust settled, firefighters resumed their advance, spraying water at the points where the flames had flared up again.

The chief walked over to his Blazer, and Joni saw him grab the CB from his dash.

"Base, this is Fire One.

Fire One, a crackly voice answered.

Call the sheriff and direct him to our location on Brown Road, the chief said.

Roger that, Fire One. Do you want him to contact you first?

No, Shirley. There’s too many folks listening. Just send him out to our location.

Copy that, Fire One.

Joni watched as the firemen fought their lost battle. About ten minutes later, she heard the driver of the pumper truck tell the chief they were almost out of water. The chief walked around the smoldering heap of wood and brick. The firefighters had soaked the charred wood and now a gully of mud and ash divided the ruins. With their last gallons of water, the fire chief told his men to soak the yard around the blackened remains of the house so a grass fire wouldn’t spring to life. The ruins would smolder for days.

Flashing lights and a wailing siren announced the arrival of Sheriff Cletus Butane. He shut them off, then got out of his cruiser and walked over to talk with the fire chief. Joni saw Butane’s face harden when the chief delivered the bad news.

With the last of the water gone and the sirens muted, the only sound was the wind blowing through the tall ripe cornstalks in the field next to Pete Parsons’ tomb. A piece of smoldering wood popped. A death rattle for the house and its sole occupant.

A man just died in this house, Joni thought. He was alone and frightened. She barely knew Nurse Parsons, but she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman who had just lost her dad.

Chapter 1

Monday, July 30, 1988

Day 1 of the Ogallala County Fair

The swaying of the small wooden boat rocked the dead man’s head back and forth on indifferent shoulders. His blue eyes bulged from their sockets in his mottled face. His thick tongue hung halfway out of his mouth.

Turn this damn ride off! Sheriff Butane shouted before spitting thick brown tobacco juice onto the dying grass.

A carnival worker scurried to the control panel of the Love Moat amusement ride and hit the off switch. With the power cut, the corpse stopped rocking. His ride was over.

Joni didn’t even think about what she was doing. The auto rewinder whizzed as she took picture after picture with her Nikon 35mm camera.

Sheriff Butane narrowed his eyes and glared at her. Joni ignored him. As the sole reporter and photographer for the Ogallala Gazette, Joni felt that she’d taken more than her share

Reviews for Death Goes to the County Fair

[Leena Aluru · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.75 ?. Such a simple mystery. Reminded me of nancy drew.inspitw of its simplicity, wll writtenandgood characters.Joni definitely behaves like the fresh graduate she is.